On The Line
by RosieRathbone
Summary: "If you can't take the heat, get out of the kitchen!"- a saying that Bella Swan understands all too well as she battles to win the approval of Edward Cullen, the fiery yet charismatic chef of Il Volturi, in this tale of romance, laughter and ruthless ambition.
1. Chapter 1

( _Wanna hear a joke? Decaf)_

Chapter 1.

BPOV.

You can tell a lot about a person by the way they take their coffee.

Sugar? Creamer? Or as black as my ex-husband's heart? ( _Different story for a different_ _time_. _I'll talk about_ _that_ _asshole_ _later.)_ Are you an espresso kinda person? Quick shot and you're done for the day? Or do you like to go for a flavored latte? Sweet and milky but with a little caffeine fix?

It may have become apparent to you that I have a lot to say about coffee, but I suppose that it was happens when you've been working at a coffee shop for two years. I suppose I'm like Gunther from _Friends,_ except I don't have bright, bleached-blonde hair and I'm not lusting over Jennifer Aniston. Okay fine, maybe I'm nothing like him at all, but you get what I mean, right?

One thing I have never quite gotten my head around is the need for a decaf espresso. Decaf in general is totally cool - I'll take that shit sometimes when I plan to get a good nights sleep, but a decaf espresso, in my eyes, is a different matter entirely. Especially when the customer thanks me for their drink and then says _"I'll be needing this today! I feel like I haven't slept all week!"_

 _THEN WHY ORDER DECAF?!_

It's like alcohol-free wine, y'know? What is the point?

Okay, okay, I'm really getting off topic now. Plus I have people wanting to get served, so I should probably get back to my job.

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"One of your finest please, Bellhole!" Alice Whitlock slapped a five dollar bill down onto the counter as she jumped up onto one of the bar stools. Alice is my longest and closest friend, who loves anything to do with social media and has enough energy to run a small village. She also has an interest in nicknames. The next time I see her she will greet me with a new name.

"Skinny mocha, one shot and extra chocolate powder?"

"That's the one!"

I got started on making her drink as she continued to tell me about everything that had happened in the 36 hours since we last saw each other. Apparently she and her husband Jasper are now trying for their second child. Clearly a lot can happen in the space of 2 days when you are happily married and settled in life.

"That's excellent, Al'! Mia-Rose will be the best big sister." I stencilled a coffee bean of chocolate on top of her mocha and slid it over.

"Did you ever hear back from that guy by the way? The one that was offering you a job?"

"Oh, God no." I laughed at the mere thought of that guy. "Apparently I'm not _'his type'_ because I'm not 6 foot high with blonde hair and tits filled with more air than the _GoodYear_ blimp."

Alice looked at me in astonishment, "damn, that must be one big set of knockers. But what does that have to do with your ability to make food?"

 _Oh yeah, I forgot to mention. I'm a pretty mean cook._

"Because where is the fun in hiring someone when you can't lust over them at the same time?"

"Oh, my God! Oh, my God!" Alice jumped from her bar stool. "That totally reminds me! Edward had to fire that Brooke girl the other day, so there is now a job going with him if you're interested?"

"Why did he fire her? I thought she was good at her job?"

She flipped her bangs away from her face, "yeah, but according to Edward she was much better at soliciting for her own personal interests rather than the restaurants, if you know what I mean..." Alice winked coyly.

"Brooke was whoring around? Really? I thought she seemed quite sweet."

"I bet even in the right light Hitler could look sweet, but it doesn't mean he was. Nah, Brooke is a tatty bitch who likes to serve the rich men their food whilst rubbing her tits in their face. Good riddance, that is all I can say."

Unfortunately I couldn't continue to listen to Alice's wild stories about Brooke because I had people to serve and tables to clear. She did hang around until I finished, however, which was when we planned to get food and continue our conversations.

I picked away at the meat on my chicken wings and licked the sweet chilli sauce off my fingers, all whilst in the middle of talking. _A very feminine trait, I know._ "Do you really think Edward would hire me or at least interview me?"

Alice took a gulp from her iced water, "why wouldn't he?! You've known him your entire life; you're practically a member of our family!"

If Alice thinks of me as a member of her family then that makes this situation very awkward. Edward and I may or may not have slept together once or twice during the summer after our final year of high school. It didn't end well.

She never knew I had slept with her twin brother, and I'd like to keep it that way.

I hesitated slightly with my answer, "sure... I mean, why wouldn't I like to work under Edward's icy glare?"

"Oh come on! He's not that bad."

Is she serious? She's not being serious, right? "Alice, Edward makes Gordon Ramsay look tame!"

"Bellhole," Alice looked at me sternly, "do you really want to spend the rest of your days serving that guy with the decaf espresso? Or do you want to take the chance to do something you really enjoy?"

When she puts it that way... "Fine! Set me up. Put me on the line."

0-0

 **I know I abandoned this site for the longest time, but after a conversation with my boyfriend, I have decided to give it another shot. I realise that I have other stories to complete, but this story is something fun and easy to help me get back into the swing of things.**

 **This chapter is to see what you all think of the idea. Would you be interested in reading more? Are you intrigued to see what happens? Please let me know, and if I feel as though enough people are enjoying it then I shall continue.**

 **Also, please thank Christopher for my return and how supportive he has been with my little hidden life.**


	2. Chapter 2

_(You had me at merlot)_

Chapter 2.

BPOV.

My morning started out like any other. Scrolling through Alice's various social media pages and liking everything she had posted - gotta keep our friendship, y'know?

On Instagram she had taken a flatlay of the mocha I had made her the day before. She included a random magazine, a pen and paper and a pair of glasses just to jazz up the scene. I never once saw her wear said glasses, or jot anything down. But her followers don't need to know that part.

I got out of bed an hour after I had originally woken up, but I had the day off work so it felt like I had all the time in the world. I headed to the bathroom to perform my 3 S's routine _(shit, shower, shave)_ and, like every morning, I gave my zero-man audience a concert. This morning it was a beautiful rendition of _Hold On_ by Wilson Phillips.

 _I don't want to brag, but I see myself as a bit of an artist._

With my hair in a towel and my sweat pants on, I head to the kitchen. Today is a day to go _sans_ bra and to wear your smartest tank top - the one with the fewest amount of holes. I had my coffee brewing and a chocolate brownie Pop Tart toasting. Start your day off right, then nothing can go wrong.

I received a message from Rosalie as I was shoving the Pop Tart down my throat. It was a simple " _Sure! I'll be there soon!"_ in reply to my message asking if she could help me look out an outfit. Alice had gotten back to me last night saying that Edward had agreed to interview me for the job, so now I had a bad case of the nervous shits and I needed all the help I could get.

Rosalie arrived an hour after she had sent her message.

I've known Rosalie since the tender age of 4 when we would sit in the sand box and try and feed worms to the little boys in our Pre-K class. Alice was in the same class, but she was always too neat and never wanted to get covered in sand, which is understandable - sand gets into some horrendous places. Rosalie, Alice and I have always been there for each other, even when we found boyfriends and started to live our own independent lives, we'd drop anything if the other needed us.

Fun facts about Rosalie; she is the biggest Disney fan you will ever come across. If Walt's name isn't on it, she isn't interested. She also cannot seem to stick to a diet - she is constantly changing up the contents of her cupboards to meet the standards of her new phase. One time she spent ninety-nine bucks on some special low-fat water. I wish I was joking.

Right now her diet is the vegge-paleo diet. She tried to explain it to me and I was beyond confused. Look it up, see for yourself. Can you understand what it means?

But she has informed me that wine is always acceptable in any diet, that is all I am worried about. Which is why we each have a glass in our hands as we search through the contents of my wardrobe trying to find the perfect outfit for my interview tomorrow.

"Don't think of Edward as your friend," Rosalie started as she flung various items of clothing on to my bed, "he is your future employer, and a man you need to impress."

I held up a maroon-colored blouse with bell capped sleeves and a ruffled collar. _Note to self: shave your armpits._ "But how can I impress him? You know what I'm like when it comes to acting professional - I get a severe case of word vomit and end up saying something about my pet cat!"

"But you don't have a cat...?"

"Exactly!"

 _Fuck, this is never going to work._

"I'm going to tell you what a wise man once told me," _Oh lord, here comes the latest offering from the Disney Guide to a Better Life. "_ Hakuna Matata," _there it is,_ "it means no worries for the rest of your days."

"As much as I appreciate guidance from a meerkat and a warthog, I think I'll forge my own path."

I took a large sip from my wine and watched Rosalie pair my maroon blouse with several pairs of pants. "You don't want to go for jeans," she said, "they may be your 'smart jeans', but at an interview jeans are never smart. Why not try these?" The pants in her hand were black skinny, high-waisted nylon trousers that came to a stop neatly around my ankles.

"They could work..." I mused.

"And instead of this maroon blouse, why not use this one?" The new blouse was roughly the same as the original, except it was white with black spots. "Go! Try it on and let's see what it looks like!" With a sigh I downed the last of my wine and climbed off my bed.

When you have been friends with someone for almost 22 years you no longer seem to care about getting changed in front of them or whether your nipples are showing through your top. Which is why Rosalie didn't have an issue with me taking off my tank top and revealing my breasts to the room. They are just tits, we've both got them.

"See! That looks amazing!"

I must admit, the outfit she had picked did look very nice, and with a pair of black heels and a black blazer jacket it would finish the job off nicely. As long as I don't drop anything down my front, my appearance should not be a problem.

 _Ha! Easier said than done._

"What time is your interview?" Rosalie took a seat and enjoyed the merlot that sloshed around her glass. Her job was done.

"Like, 9am or something ridiculous." _I mean, who does that?! Chefs, I assume._

"Oh, so it's not acceptable to have a glass of wine then?"

"It would be five o'clock somewhere?"

Rosalie laughed, "the main thing to remember is... whatever you do, _do not_ picture him naked. You already know what he looks like naked, and you don't want to get into a _sticky_ situation."

 _Fuck, can you imagine? I already have a problem with word vomit, let alone horny word vomit._

 _Ha! I'd be talking about a different kind of cat then, am I right?_

"Thanks for all your help, Rose. But I'm sure I'll be absolutely fine! I mean, how hard can it really be?"

0-0

 **So, fun fact about this story. Each chapter will start with a quote that helps describes the chapter. Also, a lot of 'me' will be going into it. For example Christopher and I are the biggest Disney fans, I currently help manage a Costa Coffee store, and I used to be a sous chef in a kitchen. More things will be brought up as the story goes on, and I will point them out when they do so.**

 **Thank you so much to everyone who has read and reviewed the first chapter. What did you think of this one? Still interested for more?**


	3. Chapter 3

_(Job interviews are like first dates; good impressions count)_

Chapter 3.

BPOV.

When someone informs you that your interview will be in a fancy hotel bar, you picture the drinks menu and work out which tipple gives you the biggest amount of liquid courage. Then, when they tell you that your interview will be held at eight-thirty in the morning, you start to re-think that idea and ask yourself if it is socially - never mind professionally - acceptable to be seen drinking a scotch on the rocks at the ass-crack of dawn.

 _Edward seems like a double espresso kind of guy, maybe I should stick to coffee too…_

I pulled up outside the hotel where a cheery young valet took my keys off me and took it upon himself to park it. I had never used a valet service before, so a small part of me was worried that I would never see my beloved Chevy again. My father, Charlie, gave me this truck as a present when I graduated from college - he had worked long and hard restoring it back into working order; he was very special to me.

My heels clacked against the white stone steps. A gold banister ran down either side. This hotel had a valet and gold banisters and I hadn't even stepped foot inside it yet. This was much more than your highway motel and I suddenly felt very out of place and small.

"Good morning, Ma'am, can I help you with anything?" A middle-aged man dressed in a smart grey suit with a black tie sat behind a large desk, he had a sweet smile on his face. According to his name badge he was called Steven. He looked like a Steven.

"Um, yes." I muttered, "I'm here to meet with Edward Cullen?"

Steven typed away on the keypad of his iMac computer. _Yep, definitely not a motel._ "Can I take your name, please?"

"Bella Swan. Or it could be under Isabella Swan…"

"Not a problem, Ms. Swan. Mr. Cullen is waiting for you in our Executive Business Suite." Steven gave me brief directions in how to get to the room and then wished me a good day. I thanked him for his help, and went on my way. The second I saw Edward sitting at the far end of the lounge, the need for a scotch became much stronger.

 _Or the need to go to the bathroom for some 'releasing of nerves'. I couldn't tell which one._

"Bella, a pleasure to see you again. I hope you found this place okay?" Edward stood from his seat and held out a hand for me to shake. I caught a whiff of his aftershave, and instantly went weak at the knees. He had worn the same aftershave for goodness knows how long and so that scent took me straight back to our high school years… and especially the summer afterwards…

 _Shit, I cannot think about this right now. This is a serious job interview and suddenly all I can envision are the steamy nights that we shared when we were eighteen._

 _Smooth move, Swan._

"Yes thank you, I did." We both took a seat.

Edward sat very laid back in his seat - slightly twisted to the side with his elbow resting on the back. On the table in front of us he had a leather file and a sleek black Parker pen lay on top. "Would you like a drink before we get started?"

We had a couple glasses of ice water on the table, and as much as I would have loved a cup of coffee I didn't want to make an ass of myself and drop it all down my front, which I have been known to do in the past. "Water is fine, thank you." _I'll get one on the drive home._

Edward nodded as he opened up his leather file. "So Alice tells me you are keen to become a chef, or at least work in the food industry?"

"Yes," I started whilst sitting up slightly in my seat, "I have always been interested in cooking. Even as a young child, when Charlie couldn't cook to save his life, I would always try and come up with new concoctions and try out different recipes that I would find in books from the library."

Edward took some notes, but his file was at an odd angle and I couldn't quite work out his words. "Did you go to culinary school?"

"I did not, but it was definitely something that I had considered." I could tell that Edward wanted me to elaborate, and so word vomit came into play and I continued to blabber on. "My choices were either to go to a culinary school, or go to U-Dub and study English. Unfortunately my mother held half of my college tuition, and she wasn't too fond of the idea of my going to a culinary school. Which is probably why she can't prepare any food that cannot go into a microwave and be ready in three minutes."

"If you have a passion, Bella, then you shouldn't allow anyone to get in your way of that."

"I know," I said, before taking a short beat. "I regretted that decision for a long time."

There was a long, awkward pause before he spoke again. When he did, it was with the air of a kindergarten teacher telling a toddler why they shouldn't spill their juice on the carpet. "Bella, I don't wish to appear conceited, nor underestimate you, but you must understand where you are. This is Il Volturi. I am a Michelin Star chef - this will give me my second star. I am not here to teach you how to cook. If you're going to work here, you must know what needs to be done, because there is simply no time for questions when you're on the line. Do you understand?"

"I do. I completely understand. I am a quick learner, and if you give me the chance I will show you what I am capable of, and that I am right for the job."

Edward has known me his entire life - we grew up together. He knows that I put my all into something that I am fond of, he knows that I can be serious when I need to be. I understood the reputation he had, and that his restaurant had and that he could only hire the best people to keep up that reputation, but I also hoped that if he decided to hire me he wouldn't regret his decision.

He scratched away at his jaw in deep thought. This was a tough decision for him, and I knew that. As he thought, I took a sip from my water. The discomfiting atmosphere had caused a severe case of 'dry mouth'.

"Here is where I have a problem, Bella." _Oh shit, those words are never good to hear. "Y_ ou are not classically trained, and chances are you wouldn't understand the terminology that we use. If I asked you to sous-vide halibut, would you know how to do it straight away? Probably not… but I can see that you are interested and keen to learn, which is a great trait for someone to have… and that is why I need you to do one more thing for me before I can make my decision."

 _Where is he going with this?_ "One more thing?"

"Yes. I want us to go to my kitchen right now, and you will make me some scrambled eggs."

 _Scrambled eggs? Really?_ "Did someone miss their breakfast this morning?"

Edward laughed and scratched his jaw once again. _I think he had an itchy spot there. Maybe I could itch it for him…_

 _Not the time, Swan!_

"It is very easy to mess up scrambled eggs - a second too long on the heat can ruin them completely. I want to see the technique you use, and the ingredients you put into them. I want to see the way you display it on the plate and how you'll finish it off. A true chef puts passion into everything that they create. If you impress me with this, I will consider giving you the job. Are you up for it?"

Suddenly the simplest breakfast sounded like the hardest task.

"I am. I accept your task." I smirked, keen to add some playful bantering into the conversation.

"Then let's go." He stood from his seat and collected the file. "And you were right; I did miss my breakfast this morning, so I could use a decent plate of eggs to fill that gap."

 _Fuck, here goes nothing._

0-0

 **Fun fact about this chapter: when I was interviewed for my sous chef job, I was asked to make scrambled eggs. It's quite a common thing for them to do.**

 **If you didn't know already, I have a Facebook page where I keep you all up to date with what is happening, when I am updating, and pictures for this story. If you would like to join us, simply search RosieRathbone FanFiction.**

 **Thank you again for reading it, did you like it? Do you think Bella handled it well? Let me know!**


	4. Chapter 4

_(Here's to getting back into the groove)_

Chapter 4.

BPOV.

I had seen professional kitchens a number of times on TV, but it is completely different when you are standing in one in real life. The shiny, steel work tops, the various different machines and the giant ovens that all help to create something spectacular. A few chefs worked away in their assigned places, but Edward didn't introduce me to them. We stopped next to a work top where Edward placed his leather file and pen from the interview.

"So, you will tell me what you need to make your eggs, and I will get them for you."

He hadn't laid out a single thing - not even the eggs. I needed to think carefully before I listed off my items. If I missed out anything, it could cost me the job.

"Okay… so I will need a shallow pan, a spatula, a whisk, a spoon, a small bowl, a plate, eggs, salt and pepper and parsley - curly leaf if possible." As I listed off my items, Edward collected them for me. "And do you have any tomatoes on vine and rustic bread?"

He didn't say a word and his face was unreadable; I couldn't tell whether he was impressed with my choices or not. I had never felt more scared during a job interview before.

With everything I had asked for on the table in front, I got to work. I cracked a couple eggs into a bowl, added a pinch of salt and pepper and whisked them together as the pan was heating with a knob of butter melting slowly.

"You don't add milk to your eggs?" Edward asked, watching me intently.

"Generally I don't - I feel like the butter adds enough flavoring for me."

 _Shit, should I be adding milk? Is that a vital ingredient? Am I going to ruin my chances because I didn't add in a healthy amount of cow juice?_

"I see. And what are you doing now?"

"I'm waiting until the pan is hot enough that the eggs will cook straight away. I've put it on a low heat so to not burn the butter. As I'm waiting for the pan to heat, I'm going to roast the tomatoes underneath the grill, and toast the bread. If I have it all timed out perfectly, everything will be ready at exactly the same time."

I placed my hand over the base of the pan to feel the heat. It felt hot enough for me. I poured the eggs into the middle and instantly started to mix them with the head of the spatula.

"I'm turning the heat off between ten and twenty seconds after the eggs went in. There will still be enough heat for them to cook, but not too much." I pulled the plate from out under the grill, along with the roasted tomatoes and bread. Before I plated it all up, I took a tiny taste of the eggs to make sure they were seasoned properly.

I put the eggs in the centre of the plate, with the toast in a V formation below it and the vine of tomatoes resting off one of the two slices. I ripped off some parsley and placed it delicately upon the eggs and then finished off the plate with some rock salt sprinkled onto the tomatoes.

Edward took a fork and used it to break apart my eggs, presumably to check the consistency. He took a delicate bite, still with an unreadable expression on his face, before checking the bread and tomatoes for their color and the way they felt.

After a long, nerve-wracking minute, Edward dropped his fork and turned to rest his back upon the table. "I like the way you work - you work in a very clean style. Your eggs were good and I appreciated what you did with the presentation, and the addition of salt onto the tomatoes. The only thing I would have changed was adding some olive oil onto the bread, along with more salt, but apart from that I think you did well."

 _'_ _The only thing I would have changed' that's a good sign, right?_

"Thank you, Edward. I'm glad you liked it."

It was clear to me that Edward was in deep, deep thought. I suppose he did have a lot to think about.

"I can't deny that you can cook, Bella, because it is clear from your work just then that you do know what you're doing, and that you have a keen eye for presentation. My only concern is whether you are ready for a kitchen of this professional level…"

"I completely understand, which is why I wouldn't be disheartened if you decided not to give me the job."

"It has taken me almost ten years to get to where I'm at now, and let me tell you it was not an easy run. When the heat is on - no pun intended - blood starts to boil, and I have lost count of the number of times people have put me down for my work because the pressure and stress has gotten to them. However, everybody must start somewhere, and everybody needs to be given their chance… so this is what I have decided to do."

 _Oh Lord, I feel sick._

"I am going to offer you a job in my kitchen, but I will start you off small. You will assist with the pot wash and the general preparation of vegetables and other food items. I know it doesn't sound exciting, but I have an idea…"

He was right, the pot wash did not sound exciting but I knew that everyone has an important role to play in the kitchen, you don't need to be the head chef.

Edward stood away from the table and started to pace back and forth, "here is my idea. I will get my sous chef, Alec, to train you up in his spare time. He will teach you the basics and we can see where we go from there. How do you feel about that?"

I couldn't stop the beaming smile that flashed upon my face. "Thank you so much. I can't believe you have given me this opportunity and I promise I _will not_ let you down."

I felt like jumping and hugging him. _Can I jump? Can I hug? No, that is incredibly unprofessional._

 _Damnit, he looks so huggable. Y'know when someone looks huggable? Yeah, that's him._

A smile, so small yet noticeable, also crossed his face. "I'm glad I could be the bearer of good news. I assume you will need to give your current job some notice before you leave them?"

"Yes, I can hand in my notice this afternoon. The shop closes at five, so I could always come in and help with the dinner service if you need my assistance before I leave completely?"

"In that case how about you come in tomorrow evening? I can get you suited up in some chef whites and introduce you to the Volturi family? Here in Volterra, we are a family."

That was probably the funniest thing I had ever heard Edward say, but I had a feeling he was being deadly serious.

"I'm looking forward to it. Thank you again for giving me this opportunity."

"You're very welcome, Bella. I'll see you tomorrow."

I left Il Volturi feeling like a giddy little school girl.

Finally, after all these years, I felt like it was my time to shine.

0-0

 **How do you think she did? Let me know!**


	5. Chapter 5

_(Home is where the heart is)_

Chapter 5.

BPOV.

I was hesitant to let the coffee shop know that I was leaving when I had to hand in my notice, but at the same time I was so excited to start something new - even if it is with Edward and his precious Michelin Star restaurant.

This had been something I had wanted to do for a very long time, and now it felt like I was finally getting my chance to do something meaningful with my life. Georgie, my manager, accepted my notice and said that they would miss me and that I had been a great part of the team, but she fully understood my reason for leaving.

Once I was back home and changed out of my interview clothes, I messaged the girls to let them know my good news. I received a reply from both of them within a matter of minutes.

Rosalie said: _"I knew you could do it, Bell! I hope you didn't mention anything about your non-existent cat…"_ She included a 'I-pray-to-God' emoji at the end of it.

In true Alice style, she used all of the exclamation marks and emoji smiley faces. _"OMG! I am so happy for you! Well done, IMS!"_

 _I wish to thank my parents for giving me initials that sound like a sexually transmitted disease._

 _I went to the doctor this morning, he said I have IMS._

I spent the rest of the day doing the usual home-owner type stuff, I put on a load of washing, cleaned the dishes that had been neglected for a couple days, and then took some time to lounge in front of the TV to continue my rediscovery of Homeland. Something about the lies and deceit made me excited, and I was officially hooked.

 _Hi, my name is Bella and I'm addicted to the picture box in front of my sofa._

I moved into this house last year after my divorce was finalized. When I moved in it was the first time I had ever lived alone - I went from living with Charlie, to sharing a place with Eric, so at first I thought I was going to find it difficult and quite lonely, but I've always enjoyed my own company, and so it didn't take long for me to settle.

It's a small, two storey, suburban house, with a neighbor either side, and a small front and back yard. It's nothing to gloat about, but it's mine, and I feel very privileged that I get to own this house and keep it running, especially at a fairly young age.

I may be twenty-six, but there are plenty of people with whom I went to school that don't have it nearly as lucky as I do. When you walk through the front door you see an open-planned kitchen and dining room. When I am standing at the sink I can look out the front and spy on my neighbors, and when I am eating my dinner I can look into my back yard, and the decaying grass that resides there. I don't have a lot of artwork on the walls or things decorating the sides, but I have enough so that the room doesn't look too bare.

It feels like me.

Across from my kitchen, I have a small living room that holds a navy blue L-shaped couch with white cushions thrown about. Charlie's old plasma screen TV sits around five feet from the couch. This TV is so old that I have the E! logo burned onto the screen whenever I watch anything. Unfortunately that means Rose and Alice can tell how many episodes I have watched of _Keeping Up with The Kardashians_. I can feel my brain cells burning every time I watch it, but it's a guilty pleasure that I can no longer hide. Especially when you see Caitlyn, before she was Caitlyn. That shit is gold.

There's a utility closet by the stairs, but I warn you not to go in there if you have a fear of tight spaces, spiders, and unused items which I bought on a whim. I feel like that closet and the spare bedroom upstairs are the rooms that I promise I will sort out and put to good use… but procrastination always gets the better of me and I am yet to stick to that promise. There are two bedrooms upstairs, the aforementioned spare bedroom, and my own.

I'd say my bedroom is the most used room in the house, not that anything special happens there, I just like to sleep. A lot. So this is where I keep the majority of my stuff. Like the teddy bear I was given as a baby that sits atop my wardrobe, and the selection of books and DVDs stacked on various book shelves. I could have these things spaced all about my house, but, I don't know, they just look right in my room, y'know?

But enough about my house, let's get back to the real story, shall we?

After my relaxation and two… okay five episodes of Homeland, I went back to the work at hand. I needed to find something to wear tomorrow night for my first shift at Il Volturi. Edward said he would sort me out with some chef whites, but did I need to wear something under it? A vest top? A t-shirt? And what shoes do I wear? I know that chefs wear their big, black steal toe-capped boots, but I don't own a pair of those, so should I wear sneakers instead? Something comfortable for standing in for a long period of time? These things needed to be sorted out.

0-0

I left my house at eight-thirty the following morning for my shift at the coffee shop. I was distracted the entire day. Even though it technically wasn't my first evening under Edward's icy glare, I still needed to make a good first impression and if I messed up, he could re-think his decision.

 _"_ _Clearly I was mistaken, Bella. You are not what I thought you were." No, I won't let that happen._

I arrived at the restaurant shortly after six o'clock. There were a couple tables occupied but it was nothing they couldn't handle, so there was a nice and tranquil atmosphere in the place.

An elegant lady with a neat blonde bob, dressed in a grey skirt suit with a black blouse, approached me as I was taking in my surroundings. "Good evening, madam; welcome to Il Volturi. Can I get you a table?"

I wondered what she thought of me, arriving here in my jeans and baggy t-shirt with my hair a mess and very little make-up on my face. I stood out like a sore thumb and I was okay with that. "Hi, um, my name is Bella and I'm helping out in the kitchen this evening with Edward?" I don't know why I asked it as a question, it just kind of came out that way.

The lady perked up when she realised that I wasn't trying to cheat my way into a meal that I'd never be able to afford. "Bella, yes, Edward has told us all about you. Welcome! My name is Jane, and I am the maitre d' here. Let me take you through to the kitchen and Edward can introduce you to the rest of the family."

 _'_ _Here in Volterra, we are a family.'_

Jane took me through the restaurant towards a set of double doors, one read 'in' the other, 'out'. Naturally, we went through the 'in' door. The kitchen was much busier than it was the previous morning with at least double the amount of people working away at their stations. Edward was writing away on a pad of paper when he noticed our arrival. Seeing him standing their in his personalized whites with a pen resting on the back of his ear did strange things to my body. I had the sudden need to do incredibly wicked things.

"Evening, Bella. How are you?"

"I'm slightly nervous, but excited to get started."

"Good, good, well, there is no time like the present."

Edward introduced me to every man in his kitchen and told me their role - I was quick to realise that, apart from Jane, I was the only woman in this entire place. I made note to ask about that one later.

I met Alec, the Sous Chef. He is Edward's right hand man. If Edward has to leave for whatever reason, Alec will take over. He can work in any station of the kitchen, and he can spot a mistake from a mile off.

Felix, the Patissier - his job is based around pastries and desserts.

Theo, the Chef de Partie. He works underneath Alec and Edward and makes sure the food that leaves his assigned station (the soups) is prepared to it's highest level of quality and appearance.

Tyler is the Saucier. It doesn't take much explaining, he is responsible of all the sauces.

Mickey is the Poissonier, he prepares and cooks all seafood.

Jamie is the Entremetier, otherwise known as the vegetable cook. According to Edward, Jamie can take on a variety of roles but for the most part he deals with soup, grains and egg dishes.

Marcus, the Rotisseur. He basically spends his day preparing meat. He can roast it, braise it, broil it and grill it. Marcus is the mastermind of meat.

Vinny is the Pantry Chef/ Gard Manager. He works with the cold items, like the salads and hors d'oeuvres. A big aspect of his job is making the food appear presentable.

Aaron is the Commis. The commis is typically an entry-level position. He does what needs to be done. He could go from preparing vegetables to plating dishes. Aaron is still learning, just like me.

And then there was Jacob. He is my fellow pot-washer; we would be in charge of making sure each chef had every piece of equipment that they need. We'd keep the kitchen looking tidy before, during and after service and we would also do some vegetable preparation if need be. They called him the garbage dog, but he took it in good spirits.

I never realized how many chefs it took to run a kitchen, but once I had been introduced to them all, it all made sense.

Jacob and I were finishing off our 'get to know you' session, when Edward returned with my new uniform in his hands. "These might be a little big," he said as he offered over the folded shirt and pants, "I only keep men's sizes and these are the smallest ones I have."

 _Why do you only keep men's sizes, Edward?_

I felt like that wasn't the sort of question I should ask right now. Maybe Jacob could fill me.

"Thank you. I'll… um… do you have a bathroom where I can get changed?"

"Certainly. Straight through the back and then the first door on your right."

I spotted many new things on my short walk to the bathroom. Like the enormous walk-in refrigerator. The healthy and safety notices tacked to the walls, along with certificates of acknowledgement and achievement. Before entering the bathroom I half imagined seeing nothing but urinals attached to the walls, but I was pleasantly surprised when I saw one urinal, and three cubicles.

Edward was right, the outfit almost fell off of me. Fortunately I wore my t-shirt which bulged out the jacket, but with the pants I could do nothing but roll down the elasticised waist in hope that it would act as some sort of belt. I used the elastic hair band I had around my wrist to pull my cropped hair into a small pony tail, slipped some fly-aways behind my ear, and left the bathroom.

Edward smirked at my appearance, "I'll try and get you some smaller ones. Are you ready?"

I clapped my hands together, "let's do this!"

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 **In all honesty I had started to lose interest in this story - it was meant to be something easy for me to get into, but I miss the big storyline like White Collar Boxing, but I am determined to keep on going as long as you guys are interested in reading more.**

 **Let me know what you thought!**


	6. Chapter 6

_(I hate being sexy, but I'm a chef so I can't help it)_

Chapter 6.

BPOV.

Out of the frying pan, into the deep frier, via some light steaming, searing, roasting and grilling? Things were getting heated in Volterra.

"This is SHIT! Unacceptable! I'd be ashamed to feed this to my dog!" Edward's screaming was becoming familiar to me, and fast. "Better. Don't let your standards drop, or you'll be the ones getting dropped."

"YES CHEF!" Everyone chanted in unison.

 _I want him to drop me somewhere. Maybe into his bedroom? No! Focus._

There was something oddly attractive about it all. The beads of sweat slowly falling from his brow, his red face glistening in the bright light, his green eyes popping out like emeralds… I wanted to work here forever.

That said, I was uncomfortable with how Edward spoke to his staff. Maybe they responded to the criticism in a positive manner? I wasn't entirely sure, but I shared my concerns with Jacob during a brief, heavenly lull in proceedings.

"I knew he was hard to work under, but I never imagined this. I've never seen him in this light before. He's an arrogant prick, isn't he?" I said.

"Yeah, he's a prick, but he's earned that arrogance. He's a chef. There's a reason why he is Edward Cullen, after all." Maybe Jacob was right?

Giving the benefit of the doubt to him, quickly, I began to fall in love with the process involved, how the team worked like a line of worker ants building a masterpiece that either met the queen's approval - I sniggered at the thought of Edward wearing a crown - or disdain. Whether it ended up in a customer's hands, or smeared on the wall in disgrace.

In between the loads of dishes, I'd stand to the side and take in everything going on around me. Edward stood at the line and read each check that came through the printer. He'd then grab everyone's attention to make them aware of what was next. "Listen up!" He bellowed, his voice strong and demanding. "One scallop, two pigeon, one salmon!"

"Aye chef!" They replied whilst continuing on with their assigned tasks.

"Marcus! How long on that pigeon?" Edward called.

"Three minutes, chef!"

"Tyler! Talk to me!"

"Morello sauce in three minutes. Lemon butter in two!"

"Mickey! I need scallops in two! This all goes together, yes?!"

"Yes,chef!"

Edward turned back around to his platform. The heat lamps caused a blaze of slight to shine off of the steal surfaces. Whenever anyone came up to him with their contribution to a dish, Edward would check the food over and if it met his satisfaction he'd plate it up, wipe off any finger prints from the plate, and then call for a member of the restaurant staff to take away.

On the other side of the kitchen, Marcus threw a sauce pan of sizzling pigeon breasts into the exceptionally large oven. He collected more of the food he had been working on, and took it over to Edward. "Chicken on your left, Chef."

You could almost see the nervous sweat appear on his forehead.

Edward prodded the chicken and then continued to lift it up and dangle it in front of Marcus' face. "What the fuck is this? This skin should be crispy, but it looks more like my Great Aunt Edith's!" He threw the chicken to the floor with very little regard for Marcus' hard work. "Get me another one _right now,_ or else you'll end up on the floor like this sodden poultry."

"Yes, chef."

 _The funniest part about that whole interaction… Edward doesn't even have a Great Aunt Edith._

Jacob and I continued on with our task and kept the kitchen spotless, the bins empty, and the chef's shelves and cupboards constantly stocked up. Whenever someone would shout, 'hot pan' as they came into our area, we'd stand aside as the pan was thrown into the sink. A cloud of steam billows from the water.

At the conclusion of my first evening, I shook hands with the rest of the kitchen staff. Jacob and I had already come up with an extremely cool, in-no-way-at-all-lame handshake/high-five/fist bump combo. Tragically, for me, Edward appeared just as we had finalized the steps to our greeting.

"I see you've learned at least one thing this evening, Bella."

"Yeah, learning the truly valuable things about cooking. How to use my hands properly, as you can see." I sniggered.

A brief smile passed over his lips, in an instant. "Same time tomorrow, Bella. Thank you for your work."

You're welcome, handsome. Wait, why am I excited by this? He literally thanked all of the staff, I'm not special. Yet…

Before I had the chance to respond, he had already started talking to Jacob, and I stood there with my mouth hanging open like a thirsty puppy. Soon, the relief at end-of-service moved swiftly to dread, as Jacob and I began an hour of clean-up. Chefs are extremely messy when they know other people have to clean up. One day, I'll be the one making them clean up. _I'll try to be tidy though…_

When I finally escaped Il Volturi, even after my hours frying my pores under those intense, burning kitchen lights, watching men decorate the most luscious dishes known to man, I couldn't escape my most primal of urges.

 _I need a fucking Big Mac._

 _The secret sauce is a mystery to me… who would need to be a Michelin Star chef when you can make something so good, so fast… Am I drooling on myself?_

I was.

My purchase secured at the drive-thru, I sat there at midnight as a new day ticked over and I took the opportunity to relax… for one minute, before my phone rang. I was sure it would be Alice, calling to see how my first evening went. I wasn't sure if she ever slept. She probably saw my Bitmoji wasn't at the restaurant any more on the Snapchat map.

I pulled my phone out of my bag, and I was briefly speechless. It was Edward.

Shit.

"Hello?"

"Bella. I just wanted to briefly contact you to say that I was impressed with how you handled yourself this evening. It did not go unnoticed that you managed to keep your composure."

 _He's impressed with my kitchen skills. Just wait until he sees what else I can do._

"Thank you, Edward. I really appreciate that. I'm glad I was able to help."

"I'm looking forward to seeing you tomorrow, I have a good feeling about this, Bella. Take care, sleep well."

 _Sleep well? Oh I'll make sure of that. Especially with the images of you in your chef whites flying around in my mind…_

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 **Thank you for reading, I hope you all enjoyed it. Let me know what you thought!**


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